


Breathing Again

by Alekuroba



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Emotions, F/F, Lot of fluff, Rape, Sorry Not Sorry, also rough smut, angsty, i love these two, just give me time, shoot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-08 16:30:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7764952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alekuroba/pseuds/Alekuroba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sameen is still healing from Samaritan's torture, her mind playing with her as she struggles to distinguish reality from simulation. That not only makes Shaw angry, but also Root, who will try to take revenge. [Shoot]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Close

Since I got back, I've been working on taking control of my body again. I still have problems distinguishing reality from simulation, my limbs reacting instinctively to almost everything. Even to Root's fingers tracing a soft line on my arm. She understands. But I can see her eyes full of worry and anger. The same anger I feel when I grab my gun the second I see Reese with his hand in his pocket. The same anger I feel when I stare at Finch for hours because I still don't trust him. Anger towards Samaritan. Because they destroyed my family, my home. My safe place.

I work out, I have a run every early morning through the streets of New York, I do push-ups, I stretch. It's not enough. Even after two months, I still hear Samaritan's voice in my mind. However, I’ve learned as time passed that there're some things that shut that voice. Or at least, they lower it. Like, right now, just hearing Root snoring lightly next to me makes me feel calm. Her face, buried in the pillow, makes me wonder what she is dreaming about. If it's a happy dream. If I'm in it. I huff, staring back at the ceiling.

She insisted on move in together. She bought us a fucking penthouse. She set up a room with several gym stuff for me. She bought us the biggest bed I've ever seen - because I refused to sleep with her in my former queen-sized bed, where we used to sleep together, occasionally, before Samaritan took me. In this bed, I can't hurt her if I wake up after a nightmare, because I can't reach her from my side. I would never say out loud that this situation makes me mad because I know she loves to cuddle - she is a sappy woman, who would love to be married in the future.

I hear her moving next to me and I look at her. The corner of her lips are upwards, a small smile tugging at her lips. She looks happy, relaxed, satisfied. For now, just being in the same bed, seems to be enough for her.

"Nice views, huh? " I hear her humming, her eyes are still closed and a bigger smile plastered on her face.

"Shut up." She chuckles and opens an eye. Then, she extends an arm and, cautiously, tries to reach me. I scoot closer quietly, so her fingers would brush over my shoulder. She lets out a content sigh and takes her hand back. I stare at her until she falls asleep again.

We haven’t had much intimate interactions since Samaritan. The few times we'd gone further it was because I initiated it – maybe a few kisses at some point. She won't touch me without getting my approval first, making me to miss how our "encounters" used to be. All rough, hard, wild. Now she has to be careful around me. She ignores her own needs on my behalf. She understands, yes. But I know Root deserves better than this. Better than what I can give her. She deserves someone who knows what love is; how it feels; someone that hasn’t been through a torture for a year, killing themselves over and over in fucking simulations. Hell, she deserves someone who actually can say out loud how they feel.

I clench my jaw and close my eyes, trying to focus on her breathing, but my mind is still running with views and memories of those simulations, of Samaritan’s assets, of Greer. Looks like another night without sleeping more than two hours.

Next morning, I get up at 5.30 am and I dress up for my morning run. I look one last time at her, making sure that she's asleep, and I leave. When I get back home, she's gone, probably to some mission the Machine gave her earlier. All by herself, with just two guns. I sigh annoyed - she's going to get herself killed. I try to busy myself and avoid to think about Root being bleeding or tortured again in some basement, but when I was about to dress up after my shower and make pancakes, my phone buzzes. I sigh again when I see the caller ID, my eyes rolling instinctively.

"What do you need, Finch?"

"Good morning to you too, Miss Shaw." He greets. "I was wondering if you could help Mr. Reese with a number." I wait for him to keep going. "Tim Jessop, 41, accountant in a big multinational company. We don't know if he is a victim or perpetrator."

I take a minute to think about it, not sure if it is a good idea going on a mission without controlling my body 100%.

"Send me John's location." But my mouth seems to have its own brain.

I guess that, deep in my mind, I want to prove myself, see if I can be on the field without freaking out constantly, without watching my back and keeping an eye on John. So I go and I meet with him, we chase the number until we realize that he is not a victim, but a perpetrator. We try to stop him to kidnap his own daughter, but when we have him cornered in an alley, he pulls out a gun and points at us. And before I'm aware of it, I've shot him and he's lying on the ground, a big puddle of blood forming beneath him. John's looking at me, horrified and prepared for what may come, slowly grabbing his gun. I'm shaking, my breathing is getting heavier and I can hear my heart beating noisily in my chest. All I want to do right now is run. Run as far as I can. Hide. Hide in the deepest corner of the city, stay there for the rest of my life. I feel my throat tightening, some nauseous feeling in the base of my tongue. Everything happened way too fast, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I wasn’t controlling my actions. Samaritan was. And when I’m about to flee the scene –

"It's okay, sweetie." I feel the familiar touch of Root's hands on both of my arms. She is standing behind me, her lips close to my right ear and I feel how my body starts to relax. "You're okay. Everything is fine." She keeps whispering as she grabs my left hand and makes me turn and face her. Her right hand is placed on my gun and her left hand is on the base of my neck, caressing my collarbone with her thumb. I let her grab my gun and throw it to the ground. I don't deserve to have a gun now. I don't want to have it. I'm dangerous. I'm still dangerous.

When we get home, I go to the bathroom, without saying a word, stripping on the way. I feel exhausted and I’m not really in the mood to “talk about it”, so I’ll just let the hot water clean the gun powder of my body. But as soon as I get in the shower, I feel Root's presence, her eyes running through my naked back. Out of the corner of my eyes, I glance at her.

"Feel free to join me." I turn on the shower, getting under it, hearing how she struggles with her skinny jeans. The heated water massages my tensed muscles and it takes me a few seconds to notice that Root is already naked and behind me, leaving a cautious amount of space between us.

She always understands and I'm getting sick of it. So I face her and I get impossibly closer to her, every part of my body touching her soft skin. I circle her with my arms and I hug her tightly, burying my face on the space between her shoulder and neck. And she lets out a shaky breath before hugging me back, one of her hands drawing lazy patrons on my back, lulling me.

I won't say out loud that Root is my home, my family, the one I'll give my life for. The only person I need to keep breathing, her voice the only thing I could hear 24/7. I won't say out loud that I need Root, her red apples, her laptops and wires scattered all over the place. I won't say it out loud and maybe I can't name what I feel for her because I actually don't understand what I feel for her. But I can let her know all these things with just a touch, a hug, a kiss, with a simple action as being loyal to her - not having flings because I know that would upset her.

Root's all I have.


	2. Voices

"The Machine told me to team up with you." Root says casually as she takes a spoon of oatmeal. I choke on my breakfast and I look at her in disbelief as she looks at me and smiles nervously. "I mean, if it's okay with you. I would totally understand if you say no. I can handle this by myself, it's just a drug deal."

Realization hits me.

"Why, if it's just a drug deal, would the machine tell you to team up with me? She had sent you to worse missions by your own."

 I stare at her, waiting for her answer, and her facial expression changes. I’m trying hard to not show the knowing smile that it’s threatening to play on my lips because I want to see how far she can go without saying to me that she is the one who wants me to go with her.

"I guess it can get messy." She answers looking at her bowl on the table. I huff delighted with how Root keeps struggling and I can’t stop the smile anymore, finally showing up on my lips.

"Well, bad news: I'm not going anywhere." I state before continuing eating my breakfast and I can see Root's body slump in disappointment as she sighs.

 I'm pretty sure she has noticed how I've been spending my time lately. After my "incident" with the last number, I've been training non-stop, feeling like everything I'd done to recover has helped me very little. I'm pushing myself harder - after all it's proven that doing exercise acts on the nervous system, stabilizing certain proteins, and increases the amount of endorphin, which is capable to make you feel happy and relaxed. Nerd alert there. Anyway, I also know that Root wants to cheer me up with some gunfire action, like she used to do before. It worked in the past, yes, but now it’s not the best plan. I'm not going to risk her life by grabbing a gun and going on a mission. As much as I liked to smell the gun powder and how that made my day, now it just makes me nauseous and I'd rather prefer to stay at home and train.

"Okay..." She murmurs to herself as she stands with her bowl in one hand and her empty mug in the other, and she places them in the sink. "I better get going then, drug dealers don't like to wait for costumers." She smiles brightly and she puts on her leather jacket. Then, she passes right next to me, brushing my arm as she does. "Don't go all hard on yourself, Sameen."

"Yep." I answer quickly, trying to ignore the desire to pull her in and kiss her lips hard as a “thank you for worrying” substitute.

I hear the door shutting behind me and I feel my stomach twist - not like when Root flirts with me or touches me. It's twisting in a bad way, some bad feeling settling in the back of my mind, making me feel restless. I take a deep breath and I decide to ignore it, finishing my breakfast. After all, She is with her, She has her back. Right?

I keep myself busy, following my exercise routine, and after three hours without a break, I go to get a warm shower, steam filling the bathroom. And my mind pulls out again that bad feeling I had when Root left. It's like something inside me is yelling in my ear "GO AND FIND HER", but I keep ignoring it. I tell myself that it's another "Samaritan's symptom", that I'm overthinking. Root has been thousand of times out there, by herself. When she hadn't got the Machine to guide her, she had everything covered, a plan A, a plan B. Now that She is back online, she has backup - even if it's just a machine. I take a deep breath, I get out of the shower and I sit on her side of the bed, staring at nothing and soaking the sheets. My hands are folded on my lap, goosebumps showing on my cold skin and heart beating slowly. I close my eyes, trying to think reasonably. But panic is a persistent bitch and I can’t stop worrying. Should I call Reese, just in case? No. She would be fine. She is fine.

I stand up and I grab some clothes, put them on and I go to the kitchen, because I know Root isn't going to have anything to eat during the mission and she will be hungry. And since she is awful at cooking, I guess I could make something and make her eat properly.

Wait.

"Since when am I domestic?" I murmur to myself, feeling weird when I look at the pan on my hand.

As I finish cooking, I glance at the clock on the wall, realizing that it's almost 8 pm and Root is still out there. I sigh and I lock my gaze on the clock until suddenly I get my jacket on and I run towards the subway. Colliding with people as I rush through the streets, I feel a lump in my throat that I can't swallow, getting bigger as I get closer to the entrance, and it's making me choke. Something is wrong, terribly wrong.

The first month at home, after several incidents with John, Finch and Root, I wouldn't get out of bed. Not even for food. Sometimes Root would leave some fast food next to my nightstand, but I wouldn't eat it. Then, after spending 2 weeks without getting out of bed, Root stared down at me with those big eyes full of compassion, and, for the first time in weeks, she talked to me. She said that instinct is our souls talking to us. It's not magic, not witchcraft, not deciding without thinking. She said that a well known sociologist explained that this psychological dimension is part of our adaptive conscience. Everything that we have learned, seen, sensed, lived, even suffered, gets into our mind and stays there. So, when we have to make a decision and we are under pressure, when we have to act quickly, all that printed information guides us. It's that information that tells us who is trustable, which road is better. She said that, normally, we should make decisions with reason, with logic. But sometimes we should hear that little voice in the back of our minds, telling us what to do. In that moment, I didn't understand why she was telling me that, but after a while I got the message: my reactions, my incidents, they aren't my fault, they aren't an issue, they are part of that adaptive conscience and sometimes they are worthy enough to listen to. Like that time when I decided to follow a random guy because somehow I knew he was a perpetrator and I found out he was a serial killer. Like when I avoid some streets on my way home, because I have the feeling that some Samaritan's assets might be around. Like now.

I reach the subway, I jump the stairs and when I get in, I see the three of them. John and Finch standing in front of Root, who is bleeding, beaten up and staring at the floor. And my stomach twists again.


	3. Truth can be painful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the possible mistakes. I wrote this chapter at the barn, during some breaks, so I didn't have time to check it.

We arrived home an hour ago, but she hasn't even looked at me the whole time. Wordlessly, she took a shower, locking the door behind her, shutting me out. And now, she is curled up on the couch, looking nowhere. I stare at her, standing right in front of the couch. Her eyes are dark - not because her pupils are blown like when she looks at me when she's making me come. It's more like her eyes are dead, no bright in them as it used to be. I stare at her and she won't stare back at me. How to say that this situation is breaking every bone in my body.

"Do you want to eat?" I get no answer. "I made dinner for us." I get her to look at me, her eyes lifeless, and that just breaks me.

I decide to be the Root for her Shaw, and I kneel in front of her face, making us be at the same level, and I brush a strand of her hair out of her face. Something that simple makes Root's facial expression change and suddenly she is sobbing and crying her soul out, burying her face in her hands. I grab those hands, put them away and I pull her into my chest and I hold her tight – she loves hugs. Her hands are grabbing my shirt, nearly ripping it apart, making her knuckles go white. I hold her until she calms down a bit and I don't dare to ask her what happened, because I want her to take that step - hoping she will spill it sooner than later or I will shoot every drug dealer in town until I get my answers.

"Can I do something to make you feel better?" I ask rubbing circles on her puffy cheek.

She pulls away enough to look at me, and after staring at me for a while, tears still running trough her face, she looks like she figured it out and she says it out loud with a broken voice.

"I want you to shoot me." I freeze.

"I'm not shooting you, Root."

My voice trembles and I have to calm down, because the last thing she needs now is me going crazy and shooting every single live and not alive being around us. Her hands grasp harder my shirt and she starts sobbing again, her cries desperate and loud.

"JUST SHOOT ME, SHAW."

She is hitting my shoulder with her fist as her face is again buried in my chest. And all I do is hug her tightly again because there’s nothing I can think about to fix this. She starts to calm down, whispering "why" few times. I manage to carry her to our bed and I lay her gently down on the mattress, covering her shivering body with the sheets. I'm about to kiss her when she turns her face to the other side.

"Please, don't." I just nod and go to the couch, assuming that she doesn't even want me to be in our bed.

Sitting there, I feel again that lump in my throat, my eyes burning and my hands sweaty. I've never seen Root like that, I've never seen her cry. She's never said no to me. I feel like everything is falling apart, my safe place burned down.

"What the hell happened out there?" I growl as I stand to take my jacket and I head towards the subway. I need answers and that fucking machine better get me some.

My footsteps echo on the walls as I walk into the subway station, the lights of the computer screens shining brightly in the middle of the place.

"Finch" I call, my voice revealing my anger.

He turns around his chair and faces me, his face full of worry.

"Good evening, Miss Shaw."

I scoot closer to him, making him flinch on his spot.

"What happened to Root?"

"I-I don't know. She wouldn't tell us. She just came into the subway and sat there for hours. We tried to ask her, but she wouldn't talk at all."

"The Machine. Ask her."

He looks at me for a while and then he complies, turning his chair around again and tapping on the keyboard. I wait patiently for him to do his nerd stuff, and suddenly he steps back of the screens. I can see a security video playing on the screen.

"I think it's better if I leave you alone." He is about to leave when he turns around and glances at me. "Please, don't shoot my computer." And he leaves me with the video playing on the screen.

I can see Root in an alley, with a drug dealer. I see her shooting him on the knee and when she is about to leave, three persons get in the alley, surprising her. She tries to fight back, but even if she is strong, they manage to beat her up, and a punch on her face sends her to the ground, her head hitting the floor. She lays there, apparently dizzy. I feel my blood boiling when I see a fourth person coming in: Martine. And things start to get darker. She makes them tie her up, her hands on her back and she says something, but there's no sound in the video, and two of the guys leave. Root seems to feel a bit better, her forehead bleeding, and she is struggling to get up. Martine kicks her and one of the guys that stayed pins her on the floor and rips her blouse open, showing her naked torso and her black bra. I don't want to keep watching, I can't take my eyes off the screen either. I keep seeing how he pulls her pants down her long legs, how Martine kneels down next to her and says something to her before her hand sneaks under her bra, how Root keeps fighting to get them off her. I see the guy teasing her core, forcing her legs to stay apart, how he rubs his groin on her. I can see her eyes watering, Martine biting her earlobe and making her bleed before stepping back. The guy makes her turn around, so she is laying on her stomach and I hold my breath in anticipation. But I release it when I see Root kicking him off of her, hitting his balls, freeing her bleeding wrists and grabbing her gun. She stands and before Martine can do something about it, she shoots both of them, fixes her clothes and runs away. I take a deep breath. I need to calm down.

"You knew it, right?"

"I figured it out when Miss Groves came in." He says as he approaches his computer. He quits the video and he stares at me. "I haven't been able to see the video, I didn't want to."

I try to swallow the fucking lump again, but it won't go down.

"Thanks for letting me know."

And as I'm leaving, I hear Finch saying to me: "Please, don't do anything until we figure something out, Miss Shaw!"

Whatever.


	4. Let me in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I corrected the chapter!

When I get to the alley, a shiver runs down through my spine. I see the spot where Root was before and I get closer, seeing blood stains on the floor. There are two major pools that probably belong to Martine and the other guy. Did they get out of here alive?

Something catches my attention as I get further in the alley: the tiny red light of the camera. I stay still for a moment, remembering that Samaritan is still there, watching us. But. Root... Fuck this shit. Fuck Samaritan. Fuck everything. I walk towards it and I face the camera, risking everything.

"I need to know what they were saying, what they were asking her."

I see a long red beep and I was expecting Samaritan's assets cornering me when the light went off, but, instead, a phone around the corner rang. I walk towards it and I answer and I hear it. The conversation between Root and them. Well, more like the interrogation. I hear how Root struggles to keep quiet as Martine asks her where I am, where Harold is. They ask her about the Machine as she whimpers. I can hear the guy panting, Root grunting, not breaking under the pressure. I'm gripping hard the phone and when I hear both Root's shots, I hit the phone and I turn around, walking away from that disgusting place.

She had my back in there, she did everything to not say anything about us, about me. I knew that she burned the world down for me when I was captured, I knew she went through torture to keep us and a number safe from Control when we barely knew each other. But this… She didn’t need to go through this, she didn’t need to force herself to stay quiet about my location when Samaritan can see me through every camera in the city. Why would she protect me? It doesn’t make sense. Besides, they didn’t need to ask her when they have my face. They just did it because they wanted to. They…

They wanted to hurt Root.

I hear my blood boiling in my ears and I’m clamping my jaw shut, soring my jaw muscles. My anger is at capacity, and I’d love to burst into Samaritan’s base and shoot everyone in there. But for now I need to make sure she is okay. I need to make sure that she knows I'm here, for her. That now I have her back.

The sun is rising by the time I get home and I find Root again on the couch, her legs bent onto her chest and circled by her arms. She doesn't look at me even when I sit next to her, staring at her redden eyes.

"I know." She suddenly looks at me, surprise filling her features. "Thanks for protecting me."

"How?" She whispered, still surprised.

"I asked Her."

"Wh-How? Did you expose yourself?!" She drops her legs and scoots closer to me, one hand on my knee, the other one comes to grip the neck of my shirt. Even in her situation she wants me safe, fine. She keeps protecting me. "Do you realize the risk you have t-"

"Root." I interrupt her and she stares at me, her eyes getting wetter. "I understand." A tear runs her cheek as she hears those two words. "And I will do it again if I need to."

Her hand that was on my knee, now is running up my leg, getting under my shirt, brushing with her fingers my abs and going towards my lower back. A shiver runs my body at that intimate contact – it’s been long since the last time she caressed my bare skin on my lower back. She rests her head on my lap, her grip on my shirt's neck losing up. I caress her hair softly, trying to comfort her.

"You have been taking care of me these past months." I murmur loud enough so she can hear me. "Let me take care of you now. Let me protect you."

She stares up at me and takes a minute.

"Can I ask you for a favor then?" I nod, confident. "I've been trying to take this smell off my skin…"

I furrow my eyebrows.

"What smell?"

"The smell of the alley. It's nauseous."

I gulp hard, images of the security camera on my mind. I knew Root was affected - I mean, who wouldn't - but I've never thought she would be like this.

"Come on."

She stands and leads the way to the bathroom. Once inside, she starts shaking while she undresses herself, breathing getting harder. I place a hand on hers and I make her to look at me.

"You don't have to rush, Root."

Her hands drop to her sides, allowing me to proceed. I take her shirt off slowly and her breathing gets harder and harder as I reach behind her to unclasp her bra. I look her in the eye.

"Relax, Root. It's me." With one hand, I take hers and make her touch my face, my features. She looks me in the eyes and takes a deep breath "It's me. We've done this thousand times. You always are naked around our place; you love it because you know I can’t get my eyes off you. You also always make me get naked too, tie me up, nip my body, scratch it-" I get her bra off, showing her round and small breasts. My eyes instinctively are glued to her naked torso, magnetic attraction. "You play until I can't get anymore." She chuckles lightly at the memories of how our games were before I was taken and, just the sound of it makes me smile. I glance up at that beautiful mouth and I have to take a breath before continuing talking. "I've never felt this connection with anyone. Until I met you, I've never thought I could be... In a… sharing a place." I huff as I take down her pants and I silently ask for permission to take her underwear off by looking at her and waiting for her to nod.

When I get her naked, she hugs herself, unlikely the confident butt naked Root I know, so I decide to hurriedly get naked too. I don't want her to feel awkward.

"You know?" I was getting out of my last piece of clothing when she started talking. I look at her, expectantly. "It's weird for me to be all into sex. I've never been really sexually active. I avoided it. I was so into computers and nerd stuff that I didn't care for partners or even needs." I scoot closer and stand inches away from her. "Then I met you and your insatiable hunger." She chuckles with tears in her eyes. "It's not like I was a nun. I had sex before with a few people, men and women, but I've never ended up liking those interactions because it felt weird to me. All that softness and romantic and ideal orgasms that we see on TV and movies and we want to replay in our bedroom... It's wrong. And then, I met you, you said you enjoy 'that kind of things' and, later, you pushed me to that wall of the CIA safe house. And you nipped my throat, you put your hand on it, you went all rough on me, and it was perfect. Perfect because I felt understood for the first time. I felt like I found my place in the world. But yesterday, in the alley-" She takes a deep breath. "I'm rambling."

"No, you're not." I say as I lead her into the shower and I turn it on. "Please, keep talking."

I wait for the water to get warmer and I pull her under the shower spray with me. When we are soaked, I get some soap and start to soap her arms.

"The alley... It was rough. But it was wrong." She is barely keeping it together. "Because even if we ‘torture’ each other, even if we find pleasure in pain, it's great, it's erotic, it's... Awesome. But it's wrong when other people tries the same things on me, because those people don’t know how to do it, they don’t know how I feel, they don’t know our agreement. They just don’t know anything." She shivers at that statement. "It doesn't make sense, right?"

My hands travel from her arms to her clavicles.

"It makes sense to me. I understand what you’re saying. I felt the same way when I was under Samaritan’s torture."

 My hands keep traveling down her torso, brushing the side of her breasts as they do, and I soap her belly. I'm trying to avoid certain places, but I'm getting impatient. I've never had to control myself like this when we are naked. She’s never seemed so fragile and it’s disturbing. I huff and she looks at me confused.

"I don't know how you do it. How you know what to do. How you did know what to do when I got back from Samaritan and I was lost. How you keep making the right choices around me." I place my hand on her chest. "All I'm thinking right now is how I do to not make you freak out, what if I touch you in the wrong place, what if I try to kiss y-"

 Her lips are on mine, interrupting my sentence. She doesn't even move them, she just places them there, her eyes closed and her hands on my waist.

 Even if I can't express myself appropriately, she’d always get me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's funny how I relate to Shaw sometimes. I'm really bad at social skills.
> 
> Anyway! I love your comments and your support. It means a lot to me! I hope i'm writing chapters well enough for you. If you have any suggestions, just say it or dm me ;)
> 
> See you soon!


	5. No mercy

I've been awake for two hours now. Light is coming in between the small space between both curtains. My face is buried between Root’s shoulder blades as I'm spooning her, even if she is still a bit flinchy when I try to touch her more intimately. She moved when I got closer, she didn't push me away though, so maybe she doesn't mind. That's progress.

It's been a week since the ‘interrogation’ and we haven't got further than hugs and pecks when she feels likely to. She reminds me of myself when I got back from Samaritan and that helps me to manage this situation sometimes. Just sometimes. Because, after all, my social skills are disastrous and I can't understand her needs properly.

I was breathing her essence, my eyes closed, when I notice her flinching away from my embrace, almost falling over the edge of the bed, her breathing all fast and hard.

"Sorry, I thought it was-" She swallows the last words and I just nod, getting out of the bed so she can stop shaking.

It's not like I'm feeling hurt by her or whatever, it just settles my plans for today once again, because this is not her, she is not like this. This is her being afraid that them would get into her apartment, into her clothes, into her underwear. So, if I had any doubts about today when I woke up, this just confirms them. This is the end.

"Want breakfast?" I ask without looking at her, putting some shorts on and heading to the bedroom’s door.

"Maybe later..."

I sigh and I turn, facing her finally.

"Root, you need to eat."

"I don't feel like having breakfast right now, Sameen. Later, please..."

I nod again silently and I even if she said ‘no breakfast’ I make some scrambled eggs and toasts for her. I place them on a tray along with a hot coffee mug and I put them all next to our bed, on the nightstand. Maybe the smell of it will wake up her stomach.

Silently, I finish my breakfast and my dark coffee, and I decide to take a shower before meeting John. However, just when I get under the shower spray, I feel cool air entering through the shower stall, goosebumps showing up on my skin.

"Why are you showering?" I hear behind me.

"I always shower in the morning."

"But today you didn't get your running done." She points out.

I huff. Of course she noticed it.

"I have some plans today. I will get home late." I confess as I reach for the soap and I start to soap myself up.

"Oh..." She is following my hands with her eyes. Even right now, she still takes her time to ogle my body with those darkened eyes. "Are you going to look for Samaritan?" She asks without getting her eyes off me.

 It takes me off-guard and all I manage to say is "What?"

 "I've seen you select some good guns and shotguns, even grenades."

I shake my head at my mistake and I get under the spray again, ignoring her question. I feel Root hands on my waist, traveling forward until her front is touching my back, her pelvis cupping my ass perfectly.

"Would you take me with you?"

I spin around suddenly at those words, startling her.

"No way I'm taking you there."

"I'm good with guns." She shrugs.

"Yes, and that's hot. But what if you see Martine? What if you just stand there because you are too afraid to move?" My anger is filling my mouth and I have to swallow it before I make a mistake and hurt her.

"That can happen to you too. Also, the Machine told me John is going too. Please, Sameen."

I stare at her and she seems determinant. Too determinant. She’s might been planning something like I did. She has something in mind.

"Okay. But try not to get shot."

She smiles lightly for the first time in a long time and it warms my chest. Maybe some gun action makes her feel better.

We pick John up and we drive towards the latest location of some Samaritan's basement I found after some research in New Jersey. Root and John talk about the plan and they consult probabilities of getting injured with the Machine as they modify it.

I keep silent, focusing on the road. But my mind drifts away. Images of Root crying, hitting my chest with her fists when I hugged her, Root taking care of me when I was paranoid and refusing to get out of bed, images of her kissing me softly. I grip the wheel harder, my knuckles going white.

We get there and I get out of the car, grabbing my arsenal and without a word, I throw a grenade to the main entrance, blowing it up.

"You seem eager, Shaw." John says with a smile on his face. I scoff at him and I signal them towards the door, and we finally get in.

Just when we are few steps in, some Samaritan assets start shooting. I grab my shotgun and I walk towards them, taking them down as I get closer. Root and John are too busy looking surprised at me that they seem unable to keep walking. They don't understand what got me. At least not completely because they haven't seen and felt what I did under YOUR constant watch.

They don't agree with me putting holes in your assets chests, but I don't care. Because I'd already felt dead once. Because your definition of the greater good has perturbed my mind, changing my mental processes. It felt like everything was inside my veins, running through my body, twisting my arteries, but it was your invisible hand squeezing my brain. The time I spent under your torture is burned in my body permanently, making it impossible for me to stitch me up and heal. But even after ruining my soul, you didn't stop: you had to make her cry. Don't take me wrong, she is strong, she is able to kill all of your assets. But she is different. She feels and she cares. And now you seem to be hunting her, watching carefully until you see your opportunity to make your move.

So I decided that I'm not going to respect the truce we have between us, not anymore. I don't want you to ignore me when I'm exposing myself in front of street cameras. I'm not as damaged as you think - I'm still capable to make you struggle. It's been long since I decided to take revenge, but today it's for real: I'm not going to wait anymore to make you suffer. I'm going to aim to your skull. I'm going to look you in the eye, where you can't lie to me, the dark side of your secrets being revealed in front of me. I'm going to make it easier for everyone. Alert all your assets, put them on the field, because I'm going to make my move and I don't care if I suffer. Because no one is going to do it for me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and gentlemen, Shaw's revenge starts now!


	6. The H word

_Shaw_.   
  
Bullets flying around me, numbing my ears, muffling voices. Blood, coloring the walls and floor surrounding me. My shotgun being the cause of the strangled voices that come out of their bloody throats. Mine is boiling. It's not like other times though.   
  
_Shaw._  
  
My dad's voice sounds in my brain. He is talking to me. He says: “close your eyes and ask yourself what's happiness. How happiness is supposed to feel. If you’re happy.” I remember that conversation. I don't understand why he was talking about something so confusing. I asked him in return, curious about his answer. He smiled and he said: "for me, mum and you are happiness." What's happiness to me? Do I know what's happiness at all? Am I even capable to feel it?   
  
_SHAW._  
  
Does it feel like when I'm shooting people? Like when I eat the biggest steak in the steakhouse? Like when Bear plays with me? Like when I was fucking Root on the counter of my kitchen a year ago? Like what I felt as I saw her coming undone around my fingers? Like when she is just next to me? Can happiness be a person, dad? And what if that person is broken? Dad, what if what I'm doing it's not enough to keep my happiness safe and sound?   
  
_SHAW._  
  
No. No time to think. Take a breath. Take it deep. I don't care what my father thinks about this, it's too late to think about it. I must past this test, so I keep pulling the trigger. I'll protect her. At any cost.   
  
"SAMEEN." I turn around and I see Root terrified and John concerned, both behind me. I lower my shotgun and take notice of my surroundings. There's no living soul left. "Sameen... " She approaches me and caresses carefully the hand on the trigger with shaking hands. Her hands would have never trembled on my skin. Not until now. She is terrified of me. I can see it through her eyes.   
  
"Sorry. I've never meant to scare you. I got caught up..." I apologize, my voice broken and low.

They nod at the same time and John approaches me too.   
  
"We should take the next door on the right before someone else comes."   
  
We run through the maze until we hit the door that leads to the base, the brain, of Samaritan as we take some assets that are left. This is it. It's over, bitch. Root gives us a signal and we stomp in the room, guns raised. We are welcomed with some nerds pulling their weapons out, but they are not even soldiers, so we take them out before they can even notice the pain in their kneecaps. And then, I spot them: Greer, Lambert and Martine, hiding behind a pillar and ready to fire. We hide too, behind some desks, John pulls out a grenade and I take his rifle, firing back. The explosion numbs everybody, but I try to stand as I point towards them and I fire several times. When I hear no response, I look at John and Root, and she stands too, walking towards where they were. I see her shaking badly, but I let her go, guessing that she needs it, staying close enough to her though. She gets behind a desk and stares at the floor. I wait for her and I see her taking her gun and aiming to something. And she shoots twice. Then, she takes a deep breath and turns to look at us.   
  
"There's no one else, just Lambert." We nod and I swallow the lump in my throat. "There must be some secret getaway door or path that it's not on the map."   
  
"Why didn't Martine fight back?" John asks genuinely   
  
"She is injured." I mutter and I look at Root who nods confirming the statement. That bitch got away again from death.   
  
"We should get out of he-"   
  
"No." Root cuts John. She nods towards the massive screen behind us and I understand. "If we take Samaritan out, they are going to be easy to hunt."   
  
_Hunt._ She wants to hunt and that makes me smile proudly. She is getting more comfortable on the field. "Well, then, what shall we do, Root?"   
  
She smiles at me like she hasn’t done in a while and walks towards a desk with the only computer on left. "This might take some time. Have me covered, please?" She asks me and something churns my stomach.  She trusts me after seeing a bloody hell out there, me being the freaking devil taking souls with me. She trusts me and all I have to say is:

"With pleasure."

Dad, can happiness be something so simple as her smile?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that it took me too long to update! College started and I haven't got time or inspiration to write. Anyway, I know this is a really short update and I apologize for that. I promise to update soon enough and with a longer one (next one might be a bit hot, if you know what I mean...) See you!! 


	7. I can be your hero

I’m pacing the room as Root keeps typing on the keyboard nonstop. She looks very focused as she reads the screen in front of her, but she looks more confident than anything else. I stop just on the right spot to see her face, her brows furrowed and a smirk on her lips, showing those sharp canines. She has her prey beneath her hands and she is about to end them. I huff in amusement: she is such a nerd. I resume my track, pacing from where Root is to the bottom of the room, and back, glancing at Lambert’s dead body on the way. Dickhead, he deserved it.

I reach the furthest wall and I was about to turn around and go back, when I hear something stumbling next to me. But there’s nobody else in this room. I look around me, but nothing is out of place. What the hell? I grab the rifle that was hanging on my back and I search the room, and I see it. There’s a crack on the wall, a perfect breach on the wall close to where I was when I heard the noise. I walk away quietly, until I reach John, who is looking at Root and at the big screen where, now, I can see millions of codes on display.

“Reese.” I whisper, trying to not get Root’s attention. He doesn’t turn around to face me, but he nods, signaling me to continue. “I found the getaway door.”

He stiffens and glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a crack on that wall that leads to another room. I’m going to get in. Can you handle this until I’m back?”

“Do you think Root is dumb? She is going to hear you open that door.”

“She is not, but when she is coding, she is in her own world. I’m certain she’s not going to hear anything.”

He takes some time to think about it before he gives me his approval. I head towards the getaway door quietly again, trying to not disturb Root or give Greer and Martine some heads up. I reach the wall and I look for a mechanism or some sort of device to open it. I look at my right and I see this little tile on the wall. I put my finger on it and when I examine it, I push it, activating a surprisingly quiet machine that moves the cracked wall away. I look back one last time as I make sure Root is safe and not aware of me – I’m pretty sure she would freak out. Then, I look at John and I nod, getting a nod back in response.

I take a deep breath and I get in cautiously. There’s a hallway towards some sort of tiny room with a single light. I can hear Martine’s elaborated breathing and I smirk. Got you, loser. I walk towards the room silently and I almost jump in surprise when I hear the low hum of said machine closing the door behind me: there’s no escape nor backups. Whatever. I can work with that. I get my attention back to the room in front of me and I keep walking towards it as quietly as possible, like when I was in the Marines on a mission. The rifle feels cold against my bare hands, its weight on my arms, and I grip it harder when I’m just two steps to get into the room. I stop, hearing carefully and locating Martine and Greer. I wait until I’m sure both of them are far away enough for me to burst in and take them out. I close my eyes, steadying my breath. Now or never.

My feet follow the end of the rifle, where it’s pointing, and my finger pulls the trigger three times. Just to make sure everything is under my control. Everything went so fast I haven’t even realized Martine was sitting in some sort of desk and Greer was standing next to her, watching her injuries. It looked like when Finch takes care of Reese when he gets hurt.

On the ground, their grunts of pain make something in my mind spark and I take the blonde woman by her arm and I drag her towards a chair, sitting her there and tying her up, and I do the same thing with Greer. When I have both of them secured, I search the room, finding a knife and a nano – Martine’s, I guess.

“Nice gun.” She doesn’t bother to answer. “What? Not feeling like talking now?” I approach her, the knife on my right hand. “You seemed so talkative back in that alley… What happened to you?”

She chuckles under her breath. “Did your girlfriend enjoy our encounter-“ She doesn’t get to finish the sentence because I stabbed her left hand that was resting on the armrest.

“I’m sorry, it slipped out of my hand.” I smirk as I back away, removing the knife out of her hand as I do. About to turn away, I regret it and suddenly I punch her, almost throwing her to the floor. “You’re such a nasty bitch. You didn’t have enough with torturing me, huh?” Anger is coming out of my mouth in waves, crashing in the air, filling the room. “Did you think I would just hide and ignore it? Do you really think I’m such a coward?”

I know I should be calling John, tell him about these two and let him take care of it. Maybe ask Finch about a new plan. But I just can’t. I can’t stop punching Martine. I can’t let her go with that smile plastered on her face, like she did really win. Like she could do anything to Root again. The last punch sends her onto the floor with the chair and she just lays there, alive, glancing at me. Fucking psycho.

I take the nano. “One last request?” I ask her.

She thinks for a while and her look softens when she says: “Your girlfriend. She is unique. Not only she looked for you when you were with us, but also kept her mouth shut the other day in the alley. You are lucky. Keep her.”

I aim to her skull and shoot without even blinking. “I know.” Moving away from her corpse, I reach for Greer and I wait for him to say something before the bullets enters his brain. I look at him expectantly and he smiles at me, a knowing smile. “What?”

“After all, Miss Shaw, you are still an assassin, a killer. You can’t avoid it; you can’t ignore it. You were born for this. You don’t feel anything but anger, you can’t feel love, sadness, not even remorse.”

I stare at him for a while. Words don’t come out, no creative response. So I just do what I’ve been wanting to do for years. And then, he is gone, his blood all over the wall behind him.

I sigh when I glance at my bloody and sore knuckles, feeling my anger disappear as my adrenaline gets lower and lower. I throw the nano away with the knife, landing on some dark corner in the room.

“Reese. Open the door. I’m done here” I speak through my earpiece and no longer after, that quiet machine starts working, inviting new fresh air into the room.

I walk through the door and for my surprise, I see Root standing next to that tile. I stare at her, waiting for her to say something. Something like “why did you do that” or “do you know how risky that was”. But instead, her eyes get shiny, wet and her bottom lip is tugged between her teeth. She lets out a shaky breath and she smiles at me.

“It’s over Sameen.”

My heart skips a beat as I process the information she’s just given me. “W-What do you mean?”

“Samaritan.” Her eyes travel to the big screen on the other side of the room. “It took me two hours of coding non-stop and she might not be dead, but she is comatose. So it’s over.”

My eyes widen as I look at that big screen in front of me. Is this actually over? Martine, Greer, Lambert, Decima, Samaritan. Is this real?

“Your hands.” I jump in surprise as I hear Root close to me, her hand brushing my arm. “What happened?” Her voice lowers as she asks, her fingers circling my left wrist to pull it up so she can see my knuckles.

“I had some business with some blonde bitch.”

She hums in response; she doesn’t say a word in a while. She just stares at my hands, watching carefully the damage on them. “Are they in there?” I nod. “Are they dead?” I nod again. “Good.” She whispers as she drops her gaze to the floor and then back at my eyes. “Are you ready to leave then?”

“Yes. It’s been a long day.”

“You guys can go home. I’ll talk to Finch and we will contact you tomorrow.” John interrupts awkwardly, like he’s trying to play wing-man but doesn’t know how that works.

We drive back home, leaving the car 3 blocks away from our penthouse. We don’t exchange many words as we shower and have something for dinner before climbing into the bed. I sigh relieved when my back hits the mattress after such a day and Root get in bed next to me. Now. Words are burning in my mouth, begging to get out, to be heard. I lay on my side, facing Root, who is curled up already, facing my side too.

“Greer said I just feel anger. That I don’t feel anything else.” She keeps silent. “I do feel other stuff.” She smiles lightly, but doesn’t make a comment. “Sometimes I think about my past. If I just could forget all the things I did back then, if I just could erase everything I saw, if I could explain all the innocent lives I took with me, if I could sow again all the fields I destroyed, if I could give back the peace I took away, I’d probably sleep tight all night long. But I can’t. I can’t rewrite my life.” Her hands sneaks towards my hand and she squeezes it, encouraging me to continue.

I try to swallow the panic crawling up in my throat. “I do feel stuff for you too.” I spit out and her eyes are wide and shiny even in the darkness. “I- I have no doubt about them, not anymore. I’m not afraid of them either. I can’t think a life without you anymore and it scares the shit out of me when I imagine the possibility of you getting hurt during some mission without backups or getting shot, or… even the possibility of you getting tired of me.”

“Why would I ever get tired of you, sweetie?” She asks as her hand travels from mine to my exposed cheek.

“Because I’m a sociopath who is unable to love the way people usually loves.” I sit up on the bed, stressed out because of this conversation, internally cursing myself for starting it. “Look, I just want everything. With you. I want everything with you. But. I can’t give what I’m supposed to giv- what are you doi-?” I ask surprised when I see Root sitting on my lap, her hands resting on the back of my neck.

“Sameen. I know you and I chose you for what you are, not for what you are supposed to be. I love you for who you are, fire cracker.” She smiles as she leans in and kisses me deep and softly. “I don’t need any superman or supergirl to protect me. I have my own hero already.”

I chuckle on her mouth. “Yeah, I do the protecting.”

“Yes, you do.” She says, pushing me back on the mattress and taking her shirt off with a smirk playing on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took me some time to update, but... FINALLY! This one is pretty long and lot of stuff happened! They took out Samaritan (partially at least) and they killed Decima for good. I hope you enjoyed this chapter like I enjoyed writing it! Next one is going to be 100% smut, so prepare yourselves!

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on Twitter (@alekuroba) or Tumblr (itsnotthateasy-kuroba)


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